


Pretty Things

by aduro



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, Read at Your Own Risk, Thats Right Bitches, a miracle has happened, i have actually published one of the self indulgent shits i spat out at 4am
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aduro/pseuds/aduro
Summary: In which Maul catches a glance of a stripper as he's heading through a club in the middle of a mission, and finds that he can't seem to get their memory out of his head.(Additionally, he realizes that his social skills are not the best when it comes to talking about, y'know, stripper stuff.)





	1. Grace

**Author's Note:**

> this has been written as the product of a depressive episode that has been fucking me in the ass with no lube for two days straight, so. that may or may not have impacted this thing's quality but at least it made me feel a little better ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> small warning: Sora is trans, so there will be descriptions of dysphoria and whatnot if i actually continue this mess (i do have dysphoria myself, though im still questioning if im trans or not so theres that)
> 
> i dont own anything besides Sora, pls dont sue me

Maul could not get what's-her-name out of his head.  
It was embarassing, to say the least, and infuriating if he was completely honest with himself. No amount of meditation was enough to get the image of taut tighs twirling around that metal pole out of his head, the way those lovely red silks flew around her curves as she moved, dancing like she was born for nothing else. Even training has seemed to fail him, the only thing he achieved was a blackeye due to the fact that his newfound obsession distracted him enough to forget to dodge an attack- he kept going for hours nevertheless, but the memory of that lovely little thing did not get any less vivid.  
It was simply pathetic. He merely caught a glance of her as he was heading through that club, yet here he was, so caught up over those few seconds as if she was at least his long lost lover who he has been searching for since centuries. Something pulled him towards that dancer, but he had no idea what it really was. It didn't feel like it was the Force, not quite, but then again, there was not a wide variety of things that could have been causing these unnatural needs of his. Perhaps he was just not living an active enough sexual life for someone his age, perhaps it had something to do with his species having a tendency to choose mates for a lifetime, perhaps it was just him having an unusually weak self-control - he didn't know what it really was, he only knew it had no place in his mind.  
He also deeply hoped that whatever ungodly events will bloom from the pathetic choice he just made will solve this situation.  
He stared up at the neon signs flashing violently above his head, painting the whole street a different color every third second. He didn't think he would ever be returning here, yet here he was, considerably more uncertain than last time.  
He gently pushed the door in (the fact that this place had a manual door told a lot about it,) immediately hit by the strong, unpleasant scent of alcohol and sweat mixed together, not to mention the loud music and sharp, flashing lights that downright assaulted his zabrak senses. It was all too much for a second before he closed most of it out with the help of the Force, taking a deep breath as he headed deeper inside.  
He did not get as many odd looks as last time, thankfully. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that he was not wearing his sith robes, instead, he has made sure to wear an outfit that was more appropriate- it still wasn't as authentic as the rags most of the club's clients wore, but Maul refused to put something like that on his body. He still passed for a noble that was cheating on his wife, and that was perfectly satisfactory for him.  
He made his way over to one of the bars, the mixologist giving him a dirty look even before he opened his mouth.  
"I am searching for a woman with red hair, about five foot seven-" he started instead of a greeting, but he was quickly shut off by the barkeep.  
"First of all," the tattooed woman behind the bar said quickly, "do ya think I know all'a these chicks? I just mix their dumbshit client's drinks, nothin' else. Second of all, even if I did know 'em, I wouldn't go around tellin' random creeps where and when they were performin', I'm not tryina get any of 'em raped."  
She returned to polishing a glass.  
"You can fuck right off that way, ask the house mom if ya wanna know anything."  
Maul pursed his lips, but didn't complain. Despite her impoliteness, he could see the woman's point, so he decided not to use a mindtrick on her (though, he himself did not know why he was making this so much more difficult for himself.)  
"Thank you," he said simply, and 'fucked right off that way.'  
He made his was through the crowd onto a small corridor, different private rooms, bathrooms and lockers opening from left and right. He quickly found what he was looking for, which was a door with "dressing room" written across it, and since he heard chatter inside, he softly knocked.  
A pale face framed with burning red locks appeared in the doorway moments later, and Maul got so taken aback by his luck that he almost stuttered over his words.  
"Good evening," he mustered, but that was apparently all he had to say, because nothing else came out of his mouth.  
The dancer waited for a few moments for him to continue, then slowly, awkwardly nodded.  
"Evening," she said, a little uncertain. "Can I... do anything for ya?"  
Maul was rapidly realizing he had no clue what to say in this situation.  
"I, ah. I saw you performing last week, and..."  
What was he gonna tell her? That he caught one glance of her, and that was enough for him to grow obsessed with her memory? That something odd was telling him to come back here? He might as well outright say he was crazy.  
The dancer tilted her head to the side, raising her eyebrows.  
"I appreciate it that you came back for seconds, but... I still don't know what you want. You want a private show, an hour in one of the separated rooms, or...?"  
Maul gave thanks to whatever deity was listening for the fact that she actually listed options, managing a faint, strained smile at her.  
"A private performance would suffice, yes," he nodded, relieved that the talking part of this endevour has finally ended.  
He could see the dancer was also somewhat relieved, though he did not exactly know why. Perhaps she simply didn't wish to sleep with him.  
"I'll be with you in room three in a moment," she said with a little bow of her head, and closed the door.  
Maul merely nodded, turning on his heel to find the private room numbered three. The hallway was not considerably long, so he soon found his place- and as soon as the door closed behind him and drowned out the sounds and smells of the club, he felt himself finally ease up.  
It smelled strongly like lavender in there, nothing but a calm, quiet song playing in the background, both the floor and the ceiling covered with some smooth material that Maul assumed to be silk.  
The only pieces furniture inside was a smaller poledancer podium similar to the ones in the main area, and a silk-covered armchair resting right in front of it. Maul felt oddly disgusted by the thought of using something so senselessly luxurious, but then again, he couldn't just sit on the floor- besides, if he was already doing this wretched act, he might as well sink into it without any doubts.  
He slowly took his place in the crimson chair, leaning back and resting his ankle on his knee. He had a minute to think now, no booming music or disgusting scents begriming his mind, and he found that he'd rather have a distraction. All he could think of was how pathetic he was, how harsh of a punishment this could bring on him, how needless this whole situation was. It was useless, he was going to gain absolutely nothing from this besides his own childlish satisfaction, and Maul has always been trying to keep himself from these situations- yet here he was now, diving into this mess headfirst. If he wasn't so goddamn patchetic, he would just stand up and walk right out of this shithole, back to his base to properly discipline himself for this disgusting-  
Maul's thoughts were interrupted by slow, sensual music, and a slender body covered in black lace entering his vision.  
His pupils dilated as her petite, pale fingers wrapped around the pole. She definitely did not waste any time- her small feet lifted off the ground to a particularly strong beat of the music, and she began working her magic.  
Maul's mouth nearly fell agape. This was not even comparable to that quick glance he caught of her last time, this was whole, carefully elegant, graceful in it's every moment. He could not get it into his head how anyone could view this as something arousing- anyone who has even had a single filthy thought about this woman was the scum of the galaxy, there was so much more behind her perfomance than silky skin and round tighs. There was the astounding skill and strenght, the elegance of how gracefully she could lift her entire body off the ground and twirl it around to the rythym like she was lightweight, the passion and practice in her each movement, the pure grace and power she radiated with every aspect of her being. She was a goddess amongst filthy mortals blind to her beauty, she was everything Maul admired in any creature, she was an entity of the most flawless glory that anyone could ever have the luck to witness.  
The dancer could see her client's admiration, and she was as surprised as she was delighted- Maul could feel all of it pulse in the force.  
There was not a single trace of arousal in his eyes, only genuine delight and wonder. He almost looked boyish with his pupils so wide, the amber of his iris shining at her through the semidarkness with all the awe that flowed through his veins, nearly worshipping her with only his gaze. For the first time since she started working in this shithole, she felt appreciated, she felt like a dancer instead of a sextoy, she felt as elegant as she always wanted to belive she was. The biggest "compliments" she has ever gotten was men telling her how much better her breasts would've looked in their palms, how much smoother her hair would've been spread out on their pillow, how much prettier her tighs must have been when they were spread wide open. Those were the least uncomfortable ones, the ones that did not involve her getting violently beaten or raped, the ones that did not require her to be begging for her life with blood flowing down her pale skin.  
Her thoughts, her memories, the discomfort she must have been put through each day infuriated Maul. He could not fathom how anyone could feel entitled to do anything like this to any living being, let alone her, someone whose talent and skill outshined every other aspect of her being- yet the filth of this place could not see that, and Maul felt an overwhelming urge to clean this building from the walking muck that begrimed it.  
He knew he could not do anything though, and if possible, that only made his rage greater. He did not anticipate to be met with such horrid and strong emotions from her, and he suddenly felt a need to shield her from it, however patronizing it sounded.  
Maul was snapped out of his thoughts by the silence that faded in as the music slowly stopped, and the dancer elegantly left the pole. A tiny but sincere smile has bloomed on her lips, and however odd he might have found that an evening ago, Maul was genuinely glad to see it.  
"Thank you," he said simply as he stood from his seat, bowing his head slightly. "It has been a delight."  
The dancer sheepishly grabbed her own upper arm, hunching her shoulders as if she was trying to appear smaller- her ears have also turned rose, was she feeling ill?  
"It was nothing," she said quietly, avoiding her client's eyes.  
Maul did not pay much mind to her odd behavior, he simply assumed she wished for him to leave, so that was what he did.  
He pressed the small leather bag that contained an amount of money that Maul has assumed to be a very generous payment, and turned to leave.  
"Good evening, and thank you once again."  
He pulled the hood of his cloak up, already half out the door when-  
"Will you be coming back?"  
Maul halted, yet again having no clue what to answer.  
"Yes," was all he said, then the door closed behind him, and the dancer was left alone.  
She stared at where he has been a moment ago, then started making her way back to where she came from. She had no idea who he could have been, she has never even met anyone who acted anything like him- but she was glad he appeared, cracking a wide grin as she entered the now empty dressing room.  
Most of the other girls were out performing or have already left, so she had a moment to herself as she started to change back into her regular clothes. She started packing away the array of outfits she has wore throughout the night, tying her hair up into a neat ponytail before she tugged on her weary winter jacket, not even bothering to wash her makeup off as she flung her bag across her shoulder and started heading out of the club's backdoor.  
Before she has, however, she peeked inside the little leather bag out of curiosity- her eyes went wide and she let out a quiet cuss, reaching in to run her fingers through the credits in disbelief. She has never even seen so much money in one place, standing still for at least a minute as she processed what she held in her hands- it was multiple months of rent, food, clothes, it was a countless amount of her worries gone in a second.  
She swallowed the knot in her throat, sinking the little bag into one of her inside pockets.  
This man was most likely some sort of supernatural entity that has just descended- she let a small smile bloom on her lips as she joked to herself about how that might have been the reason of his awkwardness, since it was his first time in this realm.  
Whatever and whoever he was, she eagerly awaited his next visit.


	2. Memories

It has been a long time since Maul enjoyed anything purely for it's beauty.  
For too long, he thought anything that existed purely to please someone aesthetically was a waste of space, just like whoever found joy in it. It could not be used for anything other than to be looked at, which, by his standards, was a pathetic reason for creating anything. Not even only the things that were visually pleasing- poems, music and literature, anything that could not be taken into one's hand and worked with was absolutely worthless.  
Since his visit in the nightclub, he saw that differently.  
By now, he realized he has always found some sort of amusement in pretty things. Mostly in the ones that were not created by sentient beings, therefore, they did not really qualify for "waste of time and space": they often had no real reason behind them, yet they were there, and they were beautiful. Sunrises, starlit night skies, the way wild wind tore through leaves, how rays of light made water glisten like liquid glads, the contrast of colorful galaxies scattered across the black canvas of space- there was no explanation as to why they were so pleasing for the eyes, they merely existed that way. Those were the only things Maul allowed himself to admire the beauty of, because technically, they did not go against his beliefs, yet they carried the same enjoyment he otherwise robbed himself of. He wanted to experience so much more than what he thought was worthy of attention, and it was not only hypocritical, but also somewhat damaging to his own mind. He has not allowed it the rest it apparently so badly needed, because since he let himself marvel in the beauty of that dancer's performance, he was thriving. He could truly focus and perform at his peak, feeling a newfound determination pulse in his veins- maybe he only felt that way because of that agonizing week when his yearning for her overtook his whole life, maybe it was only so magically better compared to that, but for now, he could not care. He felt renewed, as if every inch of him has regrown, his whole body and mind rebirthed.  
He will most definitely visit the dancer once again. She has gifted him with a newfound strenght that he was unbelievably grateful for, however illogocal this whole situation was. He had no clue why her performance had such a huge effect on him, nor why nothing has affected him in this way so far- it wasn't like he had not admired anything for it's beauty his whole life, he-

The flying boy in the window.  
In front of that fierce red and black landscape that has always reminded him of his own skin, the horizon that has always turned such pretty colors whenever the sun dipped behind it or when it emerged back up, the glistening streaks of crimson that he was always so tempted to dip his small hands into, the black fog that swirled around like it had a life of it's own.  
How he missed the beauty of that sight, how he tried to bring it back on the wall of his cell, how his own blood dripped down the dark metal as he tried to paint back the sight he yearned for so badly, how he got punished so harshly for longing after it.

That was the last time he has ever admired anything for it's beauty.

Days spent out in choking fumes. Burning and pain, his skin charred and numb, murder and blood, the taste of a corpse lingering on his tongue after the agonizing hunger drove him to devour it's guts, pain, pain, pain-

Maul was startled back to reality by his mug shattering between his hands.  
His chest was heaving, sweat rolling down his neck, his entire body tense. He stared at the broken pieces all across his lap and in front of his feet, confused for a second.  
He sat out onto the rarely used balcony of his quarter about half an hour ago with a cup of tea, merely to think and to let himself enjoy the sunrise for a change. Sure enough, he did both of those- but his reality was suddenly cut off by vivid memories that until now, he thought barely remembered. Now almost all the calmness that he has had the last couple of days was gone, all that remained was confusion, shakiness, and quite frankly, a faint trace of fear.  
Maul did not understand, nor did he want to anymore. He sheepishly wiped his hands into his trousers, given that the pieces cut into his palm as he accidentally shattered the mug, then quickly gathered the shards that fell all over him.  
He retreated back inside, deciding he has spent enough time out on the balcony for today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: a-d-u-r-o or aduro-draws


End file.
